Alone: The Straight Path
by Electromotive Force
Summary: Escape was only the beginning. Zagosa Prime's embattled survivors now find their true calling elsewhere, but many worlds much like theirs face destruction. The grave choices lie ahead as they each undergo ONI conscription into more top secret missions.
1. Praeter Celeritas

_"Only the dead have seen the end of war." -_Plato

**ALONE: THE STRAIGHT PATH**

_**Praeter Celeritas**_

My vision came back.

Past myself, past Captain Lawson at the command console, and past all the other people gathered around the meter-thick transom of the bridge, there was a planet glowing bright and blue.

"Another colony?" someone close by whispered.

"Where are we?" asked Lawrence.

"This," the Doctor said as he looked down at the Transit in hand, "is Charybdis Nine."

"_Charybdis Nine_?" Haze asked, bewildered. "Isn't this place supposed to be light-years away from Zagosa Prime?"

"Indeed it is." Doctor Kleiner said, squinting down into the Transit. Amusement flooded his eyes. He mumbled something to himself as a grin spread across his face a moment later.

The Transit accomplished an amazing jump just now. One that baffled us all, even the Doctor.

"This can't be." Haze declared, striding over to the Doctor.

"I assure you, it is." the Doctor replied.

"Well, let's make sure there's UNSC here first." He brushed past the Captain and the Doctor, sat down at a console and began typing in commands—accessing the colonial survey archives.

Rosetta suddenly sprang forth from the Captain's holo-pedestal, shooting into the air like some dream-goddess. She blossomed higher and higher until she was nearly two meters tall, lifelike. She tilted to the side around thirty degrees as if she leaned up against a solid wall, invisible to all. She had her arms crossed, a matter'o factly stare in her gaze—directed straight at Haze. "Private..." she said, beaming at him.

"Yeah." he responded absentmindedly as he access the displays.

"This _is_ Charybdis Nine. I have referenced the coordinates in the memory banks with a constellation snapshot. Twice."

"I still don't believe it. I'm gonna find out for myself."

"Well then would you like me to raise the harbor master on the com?"

Haze swung around in his chair, crossed his arms as Rosetta had, and swaggeringly leaned back. "Sure." he challenged.

"Done." she said resolutely.

A second later, a disembodied voice resonated through the ship's overhead audio.

"_This is CHARCOM harbor master. Please identify yourself. Over."_

Rosetta didn't say anything.

Haze got up from his chair, gaited towards the view port. "My _God._" he said, glancing over to the Doctor—holding the Transit.

"My God indeed." Kleiner replied.

"_Repeat: this is CHARCOM harbor master. Please identify yourself and state your business here. Over."_

"Care to answer for us?" Rosetta asked Haze.

He paused a minute, maybe in embarrassment. I couldn't tell. I think the shock of learning that we jumped such a distance in an instant washed away anything other than awe. For all of us.

I remember every time we jumped, we could cover a finite amount of distance, always limited despite the power of teleportation the Transit gave.

When we jumped out of the Lambda Core, it was probably less than a quarter-million kilometers to the moon…and it was only a hundred or so people. The infiltration team I led into the _Adamant Faith _and the _Resultant Fury _was merely a handful of people, with very little equipment—very little mass to relocate. And the last jump I could make with the low amount of energy the Transit had was only just outside of the _Resultant Fury_. We were floating—stone cold dead in space—the _Thermisticles _out of the Transit's reach. It was spent. Out of energy. Our mission, our lives, and the mightiest weapon in the universe was at stake.

That was until I hit the purple icon.

The Transit's view had changed. Its very makeup, it seemed, had changed. It had taken on a new look and a new characteristic. It went from pure, jet black to a solid chromate sheen. Pure opacity that reflected all light. It had undergone a transformation—for the better. So far.

It allowed me to get back to the _Thermisticles_, save the gunny and the team, and get everyone the hell out before an entire armada of the Covenant could end it all. I teleported our ship out of the Covenant kill zone in space, and watched from above as their streams of fire intersected one another. Captain Lawson ordered me to get us back to the moon, out of harm's way. From that safe distance we watched. Watched as the nuke Captain Lawson had launched earlier found its way to the dead center of their formation…and wiped them all out. Dust and echoes. We had won.

And we fled the Zagosa system…to here: Charybdis IX.

But the laws of physics wouldn't allow that. How could they?

Sure, we had been teleporting with the Transit for the last day or so and that would be dubbed impossible by any rights. But now, the Transit had changed on us. It let us teleport to even greater distances. How far could we go?

I wondered.

I looked over to Doctor Kleiner, the chrome sphere in his hands. It's chromate surface glistened in the light of the bridge, emanating a pure reflection of everything that surrounded it. It was so captivating, it felt as though the sphere and I were the only presence in the room. The Doctor was still peering into it, wary of our stares. He placed it back in his canvass bag and took a seat.

"This is the UNSC _Thermisticles._" Haze said into a microphone after breaking his gaze of Doctor Kleiner. "We wish to dock starside. That is all for now."

"_Ooh, pardon me,_" the dock master said, "_I didn't realize we were hailing a warship. Please head to stardock ten- alpha. Make yourself at home for as long as you'd like. I just need you to transmit your ship authentication code._"

"Right away." Haze replied. He tapped a button and the credentials were sent.

"So what are we doing here?" Struger asked.

"We're here to gather up the finest soldiers that this command has to offer." the Captain replied. "We'll only be here for a little while; just enough to arm up, gather strength, and head to the next MAJCOM."

"On our way to Reach?" Struger finished.

"Precisely." the Doctor cut in. "Top men have a big mission planned for us there."

"What mission?" I asked.

"We can't disclose that just yet. Sorry, it's on a need to know basis right now."

Great. The same old treatment all over again, as if I hadn't had enough of it back at the Foreclay Outpost. "I see."

"So go ahead and get yourselves some nice shore leave here," Captain Lawson announced with a smile, "and report back at oh-nine-hundred local for briefing and accountability."

Well, it wasn't all I had hoped for, but we had finally got our much-deserved time off. Even after our experience at Zagosa—all we had been through—we were still subjected to smoke and mirrors.

Just before I made my way to exit the bridge, the Captain approached.

"Private Pennington."

"Sir?"

"Before you get to relaxing, I need a favor from you. I need you to give me a list of everyone in Lima Company."

"For accountability?"

"...No. For evaluation. Ever since we lost Gunny Smith, he's taken something along with him. It's time for a change. Lima Company needs a new leader. So I want you to get a list going, with everyone's strengths and weaknesses. You don't have to sugarcoat anything, and you don't have to worry about anything you mention coming back at you. Be honest, Pennington. Be _brutally_ honest. This stays between you and I."

"Aye, sir. May I ask why me?"

"Because you seem to be very observant. And you're very receptive to change. And maybe that rescue op you led has something to do with why I've chosen you."

"I was just following the Doctor's orders, sir."

"And follow them you did. Work on that list. Get it to me as soon as you can."

"Yes sir."

I left the bridge. I had a lot on my mind already. Now there was one more obligation: to analyze every Marine in Lima Company, to pick apart everything about everyone. I had my opinions just like anyone else, but the thought never crossed my mind of someone else wanting to hear them. I had always been one to keep judgements to myself. Now, I'd have to purge them all. But it was for a good cause.

But before I could possibly ponder about others, I had to take care of myself. I headed back to my quarters to get cleaned up and see Charybdis IX.


	2. Shore Leave

_**Shore Leave**_

A set of airlock doors opened and I proceeded through.

I had left the _Thermisticles_, boarded the adjoining stardock, and had found a means to get down to the surface—through a civilian transport service that operated out of the space hub. Though tailored to businessmen, families on vacation or any other type of common folk, we were of course allowed to utilize the colony's various transport and recreational services. I was going planet side for some much needed shore leave. It didn't mean we could "act a fool", is what Staff Sergeant Rios—our acting NCOIC—had said. We knew the drill.

Down the length of a sunlit gantry I walked—leading towards my transport. Magnetized boots made for the gantry anchored me to the metallic lower hemisphere of the connecting tube. The upper hemisphere of the tube I strode through was clear plexiplate, allowing me to take in the skyscape of Charybdis IX. Out the dome was the wash of black space, a swath of a billion tiny stars. A great moon—nearly the size of its mother planet—lay off to stern, pockmarcks and gash-like ravines carved into its audacious surface like the leathery face of a weathered man. Many of CHARCOM's great warships moseyed around the periphery to their places of business.

I crossed the threshold into my transport craft, no bigger than a pelican drop ship. There were plenty of windows and seats for tourists. Metal bars stretched from ceiling to deck for handholds, should the ride become packed. This particular vessel wasn't. Just a couple of families and other tourists, maybe a pair of newly-weds who kept to themselves. I was the only one with a uniform on. I took my time showering and getting cleaned up. It was the only time I got to just soak and be…for as long as I could remember. I definitely stood out—dark black camouflage fatigues, no armor and no weaponry. Though, I always carried my own personal anklet knife. I looked down to make sure it was fully hidden as I didn't know the colony's laws on concealed weapons. I decided to make my presence discrete during my stay, as well as what I was carrying on me.

I chose to stand rather than sit, grabbing a handhold and looking out the window as to suggest I wasn't interested in conversation with strangers. Captain Lawson had briefed us all to keep quiet about the events at Zagosa Prime, that the masses weren't ready for the information we possessed. And since those events were the only things on my mind, it'd be better if I talked seldom. If even at all.

Once I got down to the surface, I could blend in with other men and women of uniform. Make myself less known.

The doors closed with a hiss and the gantry way lost its suction, pushing itself away from the craft. Diminutive micro bursts shoved us clear and the main rockets thundered up with life. A brief burn and the transport had all the momentum it needed to glide down to the colossal orb below—which was not unlike our own: the stable, content little Zagosa Prime, now gone.

Charybdis IX was thriving and basking leisurely in an endless sea of space. It was the same as dead Zagosa. Blues and greens and whites and browns, land and ocean, peak and valley. Cities and countryside, homes and offices. Man woman and child. The same.

In every way, including its vulnerabilities.

Cargo vessels, civilian spaceliners, and other tiny transports like mine jettisoned away from the space hub, ferrying all sorts of humans and things groundside.

All these people with so many destinations, so much to do. So much to look forward to.

Did they know the Covenant were on their doorstep?

The craft lumbered ever downward, the big blue sphere gaining in size as if swallowing me whole as I stared down into it. It was so pristine, so blue. Would this place be just another statistic? Another victory claimed by the Covenant? Lives lost, families shattered?

I was starting to think so. Without even putting up a fight against my own reasoning, the notion took me over. Did I let it do so freely—as I had let Zagosa Prime? Was hope fading?

Even as this grand operation went underway, I had my doubts. Doctor Kleiner and Captain Lawson unearthed a miracle. But it had taken a colony—and millions of lives to ensure humans had control over it. Was it worth it? Was _this _place…worth it?

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't.

The lines were definitely blurred now that we had this Transit in our possession. It made miracles. It gave us the upper hand—in any situation. But it also made sacrifices—of great magnitude—justifiable. Plus, the Covenant wanted it badly. A whole armada came looking for it, tearing Zagosa apart, killing millions. They would renew their galactic campaign of genocide. Our brief victory wouldn't stop them, or even slow them down. It would just make them that much more enraged, determined.

Guess there's a flipside to everything.

A price to pay for victory. A price to pay for survival.

A double-edged sword, the Transit was.

We just about broke through the ionosphere of Charybdis IX in the light transport vehicle. I took off the space boots and placed them in a receptacle near the door. Wisps of clouds streaked past the windows as we descended closer to the surface. Once through the cloud layer, the whole view became saturated with beautiful radiant sunrays. The clouds were like stencils as the sun etched the terrain canvass. The water below was crystal blue-green, like a tropical paradise. Barrier reefs and lagoons and archipelagos dotted the coast line of the globe's largest metropolis—which was alive and bustling with business. Everything looked so small from here, but perfect.

Everything here was perfect.

It was a far cry from the mines of Foreclay, or the hostile rockiness of the moon.

But if Zagosa had a soul, it would surely envy Charybdis—in all it's fairness.

It's so hard to believe it's just…gone. My home.

The craft sank further into the planet, not far from the groundside docks. They were right on the shore. Schools of fish swam and darted here and there. Families and lovers were scattered along the many wooden piers, eating, relaxing, feeding the fish, and just taking in what life had to offer. They were small as ants from here. Small and weak and precious.

I was alone.

And worried.

And for good reason.

Our coming here is as the footsteps of doom.

If the Covenant were indeed near this area of the galaxy, they'd scour it for Human life when they got word: that their allies perished, and thus, failed at Zagosa. But when the Covenant comes—and come they will—we could do very little in defending it. Granted, we _had _the Transit. It could do marvelous things. But there's no possible way we can protect everyone. So many people.

If the Covenant attacked…it'd be a rerun of Zagosa Prime all over again. Not being able to defend all its citizens.

We had to soldier on nonetheless. We had to do what we could for Operation: Island Hop, so we could end the nightmare of a generation. The nightmare of the Covenant.

But…the Transit had changed on us. It pulled a fast one: we jumped the _Thermisticles _and all the souls aboard it to a distance unfathomable. CHARCOM HQ was a light-decade away from ZACOM HQ, a week's journey in slip space. How the hell did we pull that one off? How the hell did Kleiner manage it?

The Transit never ceased to amaze me. How many more times would I be baffled by its awe-inducing power? How many more surprises were in store? I hoped none. I'd had enough. I wanted this last operation to succeed.

I looked out to the shore as I became same with the sea level. The water glistened in the sun at the horizon, making a line of gold straight towards me.

The craft touched down gently.

A far cry from HALO jumping into action.

The doors opened and sent in a fresh draft of Charybdis air. Clean, crisp air. I stepped on through and left the transport, squeezed by hordes of people greeting their loved ones and friends. They were all so happy. I was the only stoic face in the crowd. I was alone.

Kiosks and news stands dotted the vast lobby. Rows of benches and the occasional foliage took up most of the space, with terminals all around the edge—taking people to who knows where. I strode down the carpet and looked up a taxi service at a kiosk. _There_—one leaving in fifteen minutes.

I would've left in an instant to seize the day, but I was hungry. I hadn't had anything to eat yet. I used the same kiosk to find a take-out restaurant close by. Two minutes and I was there, ready to order. I kept it simple: tuna melt and a pickle on the side. I needed to wake up out of my haze so a tall coffee was in order as well. Being here made me feel better about things. I could take a load off and decompress after everything that had transpired.

As I sat down and took my first sip of hot coffee, my thoughts went to Gunny Smith—how he was holding up. I pictured him there in a hospital bed, IVs, EKGs, respirators, catheters, morphine tube, the whole nine. I involuntarily turned away and winced. I wolfed down the sandwich and most of the pickle, got up and threw away the trash. I took the coffee with me and proceeded to the taxi pickup. I had to get my mind off him because I was partially responsible for his current condition. I had used the Transit foolishly aboard the _Resultant Fury_. I was reckless—teleporting every enemy in our path to avoid a few skirmishes. It was cowardice. No…

It had to be done. There was no telling the outcome if those exact courses of action hadn't been taken. There were so many possible futures with the Transit. Maybe this outcome was the best available. If I hadn't used the Transit to our advantage, I would've wasted even more time; and the Gunny, the _Thermisticles— _and everyone aboard it may've paid the price. To boot, the Transit could've fallen into enemy hands.

However, I still couldn't believe the result of the whole rescue op. I still couldn't believe the hand we were dealt, even though the mission could've been called flawless by any right. I mean, the Gunny—rescued, and the Captain's boat safe from danger, and then…a whole Covenant armada destroyed. It was one for the books. But now Gunny was on the verge of death, maybe a painful one.

A quick death from his captors would've been more fitting.

I couldn't think about it anymore. I didn't _want _to think. I wanted to get him out of my head.

I wanted to see this planet. See what I've been missing for so long: peace.

As I walked, I realized I had no one to see the sights with. I was alone.

But just my luck: Holmes was not far ahead—outside—under a covered walkway right on the street. He was waiting for a taxi in the sunlight. Just then, a sun shower fell to the ground, soaking everyone outside for a few seconds, including Holmes. Just as soon as it came, it was over. Gone.

I came within a few steps to him as he turned around, shaking his sleeves of water. "Blake!"

"Hey, Holmes."

"What's going on, man?"

"Not much." We shook hands and he offered me a pat on the back. He seemed a little happier than I did, like he had a better lease on life. Like he knew something I didn't.

I had missed out on something, somehow.

He asked, "Wanna share a cab? I hate being alone in new places."

"Yeah, I was kinda thinking the same thing."

"Cool."

I was the same way. I think we're all the same way: we'd rather not be all alone in a strange place. "So where do you feel like going?" I asked.

"Maybe a theme park or a museum or a mall. Hell, there are so many places to see! I don't know where to begin."

"Why don't we start off slow. A mall."

"Sounds good."

A few moments went by as we stood in the warming sunlight. The clouds drifted away. Tall office buildings lined our avenue, top to bottom and from far left to far right, their plate glass windows reflecting all the fresh light, much like the Transit would. The street was cobblestone, maybe meant to give off a vintage appearance. Far in the distance on either side, vehicles of all sorts criss-crossed the intersections, disappearing from view to wherever they went.

A taxi rounded the far corner and headed our way, tires splashing fresh rain water to the side as it jittered down the cobblestone. Holmes held a hand in the air while bringing in the other to his mouth for a loud whistle, just like in old movies. The yellow sedan instantly veered to its right, swooping in to scoop us up, then eased to a halt next to us. Fresh drops of water fell off the awning overhead as we piled in.

"Foxtune mall," Holmes announced. The driver nodded in reply.

I watched the city pass me by as we sped off. Postal offices, delis, barber shops, parks, graveball arenas. All the things I had missed out on for the last few years. I wanted to feel like a kid again—with no cares. But I couldn't turn my back on everything that had happened, after the life at Zagosa came crashing down.

"I heard it's quite nice, by the way," Holmes uttered.

"What?" I asked, turning from the window.

"The mall," he stated. "I heard it was quite nice."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, probably is. Everything is nice here."

"You okay, Blake?" he asked.

"I guess."

"You guess? That doesn't sound like a definitive answer to me."

"I'm fine."

"What's eating you?"

"It's the Gunny. It's the Covenant. It's this place."

The taxi cab driver looked up from the road—into the rearview mirror. Caught my haunted gaze. He looked back down at the road with no particular expression.

Holmes' voice sank to little more than a whisper. "It's all behind us now. You have to let it go for right now. There's _nothing _we can do."

I thought about that. Was there really nothing we could do?

Something was wrong, but then again, maybe it's just my usual musings, my mind on overdrive. Multiplied by the fact that so much had happened in the last few days. We had been through quite a lot.

"Alright," I relented. "I'm going to relax. Don't worry. Even if I have to force myself, I'm going to relax."

"Just remember to take it easy, Blake."

I nodded.

The taxi's hydrogen IC engine thrummed with a metallic whine. We approached a round-a-bout drop off circle right outside of the main entrance to the mall. The driver coasted to the apex—a few steps away from the antique revolving doors. Holmes handed him a few notes and a generous tip. We stepped out and entered the spacious interior.

For a couple of hours we walked, just window shopping or browsing things we couldn't afford, watching people at the skating rink or riding the roller coasters. We sat for a while, talking about plans after the UNSC. What we'd do with ourselves should the War come to an end. We each had our hopes and dreams. We hit the food court and took a seat. It was packed. A great deal of people glanced our way. It wasn't the low profile kind of experience I wanted, but the only thing we received were polite nods.

"Before I spill the beans, I gotta hit up the head. Be right back."

"I ain't going anywhere," I replied.

He smiled and walked off.

I caught a giant monitor near the ceiling displaying the colony's latest professional graveball standings. I hadn't been able to really take an interest in the sport since my assignment to Zagosa. After that, things like graveball didn't really matter. It seemed trivial, the human race right at the edge of extinction—staring down the cliff.

Something else in the food court caught my eye.

Amy.

She was here?

Yes. There she was—near a miniature lagoon of sorts. A pool with plants all around. A grotto, not unlike one found in the mines of the Foreclay Outpost. Only this grotto wasn't dark like the depths of that mining camp.

I could see her clearly. She wasn't in her armor. She was in plain clothes.

They had let her go—Captain Lawson and the Doctor. They had afforded her some freedom. It was so hard to believe that—that such a soldier this structured could be let loose.

I took a good, hard look at her. She was taking it quite well. She fit in rather nicely with her surroundings. I wondered: was this her first time in public—like _this_?

She stood by a pool of water just outside the food court. Couldn't have been more than a hundred meters away from me. She was wearing teal-green shorts. Not loose, but not tight either, covering about half the thigh. She had on a matching green shirt. She wore thong sandals and looked like any ordinary tourist. Only her short hair and her white skin hinted at someone that didn't get out much.

But as a food court employee came up to her and offered her food samples from one of their restaurants, something hit me…

She gracefully took a morsel from the platter, ate it, and smiled. She smiled. At the waitress.

They talked a little. They laughed, shook hands. It was as if two friends were just hanging out.

The girl left and attended to other potential customers. Amy stood there alone at the small pool, shuffling off one of her sandals and dipping her pale foot into the water. Elegantly and sensually.

I couldn't believe how normal she was.

She could pass for a college cheerleader or a gymnast or a supermodel. A pale supermodel. Only this supermodel could probably leg press a warthog.

She was beautiful and dangerous, like an Amazonian godess.

"Hey Shakespeare!" someone said. I looked around: it was Lawrence, trotting up to me.

"Hey, Lawrence. What's happening?"

"They transferred Gunny to a groundside hospital. Want to pay him a visit?"

"Hell yeah!" I said.

"C'mon."

"Let's wait minute. I'm waiting on Holmes' slow ass."


	3. Bedside Visit

_**Bedside Visit**_

I stood up from my chair in the food court, looking around and waiting for Holmes.

Amy was gone. I looked to the spot where I last saw her…nothing. I lost her again, and in the one place and time I could've talked to her and really leveled with her. I glanced in every possible direction, no good. She disappeared yet again. Like she always had. It would have to wait.

Finally Holmes appeared from the head.

"Dang, Holmes. Did you fall in?" I said.

"Very funny," he replied. Homes looked up to Lawrence. "Hey, how's it going?" Holmes asked.

"Pretty good," Lawrence replied. "Good news: we get to see Gunny Smith today. He's in a hospital not too far from here."

"Just how far? I really don't feel like spending any more of my hard-earned money on cabs."

"We can hoof it," Lawrence said. "Only a few klicks from here."

"Righto," Holmes answered. He followed as Lawrence led. I was right behind them.

Half an hour later, we arrived at a hospital in a less hectic city district away from the crowds. At the reception desk was the customary agent—a blonde. Friendly, picturesque smile. Just like the movies. She was preoccupied on the phone. Holmes and Lawrence rested their weight against the high counter beside her desk and I chose to look around the waiting room, just now noticing that every person in there was on the edge of their seat with eyes transfixed onto the television monitor hanging in the corner: headlines of my home planet all over the screen. _Zagosa Prime this, Zagosa Prime that_.

It was breaking news that Zagosa Prime was nearing grave danger. Fleets of the Covenant were shown high in orbit, duking it our with our UNSC fleets. Plasma fireballs and MAC rounds and microbial fighter craft painted the reaches of space above the planet's poles, all just slow blurs from a distance. Patches of red were strewn all about the surface below. Old news.

We had been fighting them for months before they finally glassed us. We rode out the whole whole wave of armageddon...and eventually won.

Guess word doesn't travel around the galaxy as fast as we did. Or…maybe it was engineered this way. News of the neighboring colony annihilated would strike fear and panic into everyone living here; it would do more harm than good. And we Marines of Lima Company dare not say a word, lest we wanted to share the secrets we uncovered.

I chose to not say anything to my comrades with me. Better to let it go.

"The patient is in room 213," I overheard the woman say.

"C'mon, Blake. Let's go see Gunny," Holmes said, beckoning me away from the monitor.

We walked. Second floor, room thirteen. That was where he was. I hoped that he'd been holding out, tough as old Gunny was.

Holmes cued the elevator and we waited, for an eternity it seemed. I was nervous. I wanted to know the Gunny was okay, and at least coherent. I longed to see his face, smiling at us. The last I ever saw of him was on the plates of the _Thermisticles' _armory deck, sprawled out on the floor lifeless. Out cold and unconscious, so incongruous to his character. He was always the doer, the motivator, the heart and soul of Lima Company. He outlasted more battles than we ever would. But he only lasted for about six seconds in the vacuum of space while I fiddled with the Transit. Those six seconds had cost him much.

His lungs. Maybe…his life.

As much as I was assured of the contrary, it was more or less my fault.

A friendly chime struck a chord in my mind: the memory of the Omega Wing and the mines below it. And what we were all unwittingly fighting for.

The doors of the car slid apart and together we stepped in. Still vivid in my mind, the memory convinced me that the elevator should go down. And down and down and down, until there was nothing left but black rock and cold water, caverns and caves and echoes, darkness and secrets. Those mines were long gone now. So far behind yet ever clear in my far away sights.

The elevator sprang upward, jolting me out of my memory. The ride was too short. Just one floor up and the doors reopened. We stepped out and hooked a right towards room thirteen. Only a few paces and we reached the door. It was already open and with a deep breath, I proceeded through after Holmes and Lawrence.

I could see him on the bed, with intravenous needles and electronic patches all over his body. A respirator fed his lungs regulated air. Up and down, up and down. His face was droopy and inert. He was out of it. I walked over to his side and knelt down next to his hand. I placed mine over his and just stared into his face, hoping he'd respond. Hoping his eyes would open and remember a friendly face.

Nothing.

I could think of no worse a fate for a man like the Gunny. This was a man who got the most out of life. He was outgoing, fun, and the master of his domain. He had the biggest personality I'd ever seen. He didn't deserve to spend the rest of his days as a vegetable, life passing him by. I cried into my sleeve.

Holmes approached my side, then Lawrence. I felt a hand on my shoulder. A moment and I stepped away from the Gunny so the others could pay their respects.

After we couldn't watch any more, a doctor walked in. His expression did not change at the sight of us, but we knew that he understood what he saw. "Hello, Marines," he said. He placed a datapad down on a nearby nightstand.

"Doc," I said. "Is he gonna be okay? How long is he gonna stay like…this?"

"His condition is improving but in all honesty, it's all up in the air at this point in recuperation."

"I..I don't understand. He can breathe again."

"He suffered a tremendous amount of trauma so his body is responding with comatose. Things are fine at the moment, but it's up to his body to accept the lungs we've fabricated for him. Just as well, this is a good time to prepare yourselves. A number of things can happen that will affect him in a negative way."

"…Like?"

"Like his own immune system recognizing his new lungs as a foreign object and sending out antibodies to attack it; the body will reject the lungs. Or there may be an RNA mismatch, in which case essential carrier molecules supporting the amino acids would crash and protein synthesis would not take place; his lungs would fail. In any case, though, he may not awake to be the same person you remember him as. In these sort of high-trauma incidents, profound memory loss is not uncommon. Amnesia, even the lack of motor skills could result."

Holmes shook his head. "I don't know half of what you just said, but it doesn't make me feel any better."

"I am very sorry," the Doctor said. "There's little else we can do for him now, but he _is _improving. Everything so far has gone well and that is saying a lot considering the condition we received him in, but only time will tell now." He somberly looked at each of our faces. "If you'll excuse me…"

The Doctor grabbed his datapad and walked away.

Lawrence sniffled. "Give it a week and the Gunny is good as new," he said cheerfully.

"No…" I said. "Even after he wakes up, after the transplant operation is successful, they'll keep him right here…for observation. They'll make sure his body fully accepts his new lungs before they let him go. We'll be long gone on OPERATION: ISLAND HOP."

Holmes nodded his head. "You're right."

Lawrence took a deep, cleansing breath. "Then let's say goodbye to an old friend and do what we must."


	4. The Harvest

**Author's Note: First of all, damn! It feels good to be writing this story again. This is going to be a long author's note…**

**-As you may have seen, I've been really focused on "Underworld". I'm right at the crossroads to that story, a point where things are gonna start heating up and getting ****really**** interesting. To fully exploit its awesomeness, I wanted to take my time with it and sidetrack myself with this story. That's not to say in the least that I will skimp out on "The Straight Path". Oh no, not at all. I love all my stories and I aim high in each of them. And I certainly don't want to disappoint my readers and reviewers. I want to keep you all enticed and inspired, which reminds me…**

**Just now, I was reminiscing on the reviews I received for "Alone" as well as the sequel (this story), and I am so grateful to have had such honest and pleasant feedback. I really do feel blessed. Which leads me to my next point…**

**I have put this story, and others, off for far too long. I have had several major life events take precedence over my writing recently. I've gone through a few travels (military and civilian related). I've also been promoted, in which I journeyed through an intense NCO leadership course. I'm currently enrolled in online college courses. And to top it all off, I'm transferring to another unit very soon. Whew!**

**So, now that the NCO leadership course is over and done with, I have a little more time to spare now. Plus, it's the weekend. So, I wanted to take this opportunity to humbly give thanks to what I have been given by you readers, and to say that I'm always here to stay no matter what events get in the way. I hope you get the chance to read my stories because I have some truly awesome ideas for them.**

**Stay tuned!**

**-EmF**

_**The Harvest**_

The three of us piled in the cab, the mood definitely less than jovial. At least the rain was gone; the sun was out. Even the air was heavily fragrant with the sweet scents of Charybdis IX's nature, usurped from the depths by the rain's steady leeching of the soil. Mist rose from the street flanks like stalking spirits, the roads uncharacteristically barren of activity. I watched the hospital fade from view out the rear window, something sacred slipping away the whole while, stretching thinner and thinner with every klick elapsed. Our leader, our mentor, our father, was…

"God damnit!' I said. The rage and the sadness and the guilt finally came to a boil inside me. I wasn't fully aware of my own demeanor until I saw it in my comrades' eyes. I forced a breath. "They're gonna pay." I made the hardest fist in the universe and killed my other palm with it. "God, they are gonna fuckin' pay."

Holmes offered up a fist across the bench seat. I pounded it with my own, followed by Lawrence. The remainder of the cab ride went on in silence as we made our way back to the terrestrial UNSC port call. It wasn't easy thinking about the Gunny, or even how he wound up the way he did. I would see to it that every incursion we had with the Covenant resulted in utter and gruesome victory. Now was the time. This is humanity's hour. Lima Company is the tip of the spear.

A trip across town, a trip up the stratosphere and to the vacuum, and finally to the _Thermisticles_. I couldn't wait to begin the crusade that would turn the tide.

The airlock opened and we cycled through. The inner locks opened and as one, we made our way to the command deck—where we were met with some new faces. Presumably, they were some of the UNSCDF's Marines stationed at Charybdis IX.

"Marines," a familiar voice welcomed. A tall and broad-shouldered man stepped forth from the assembly in the bridge, a man in service dress uniform. Captain Lawson, commander of the UNSC _Thermisticles _and the Foreclay Outpost. We snapped to attention. "At ease, gentlemen. I'd like you to meet some of Charybdis IX's finest."

Stoic nods were exchanged from across the deck. From what I gathered, these men and women were rock solid, just dying for an opportunity such as the mission we were about to embark on. "Where is Doctor Kleiner," I asked.

"He's in the mess hall, instructing some of the new recruits on Transit principles."

They were in the know. "Excellent, sir."

"Very," he added. His expression changed. "How was your visit to the hospital, Lieutenant Pennington?"

I knew Captain Lawson was an important man with a busy schedule. He was leading Lima Company and everyone else on this grand mission. I could go on and on, opening up the flood gates on how I felt about the Gunny. But what's done is done; it would be selfish of me to put my feelings for Gunny Smith in front of the mission. So, I kept it simple. "It was…"

And then I realized it: the Captain just called me lieutenant. Surely, a mistake. I searched his eyes and saw something strange. Was he serious? I looked around: all eyes were on me. My eyes shot wide and a sudden thrill sprang forth from the pit of my stomach.

"Attention to order!" the Captain shouted.

Every occupant of the bridge snapped to attention as he strode up next to me. This was it. A promotion ceremony held in my name. I could hardly maintain my composure I was so surprised. But I tried. Luckily, there were no cameras.

"The President of the United Nations has proposed special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, and fidelity of Private Blake E. Pennington. In view of these qualities and his demonstrated potential for increased responsibility, he is, therefore, promoted to Lieutenant, effective this date. By order of Secretary of the United Earth Space Corps. Post!"

Together, the Captain and I faced one another. A proffer approached and produced two gold bars to Captain Lawson, who then turned back to face me. He then pinned them on the lapels of my uniform. He eyed them squarely to ensure they were display within regs, then he held out a hand and I shook. "Congratulations on your battlefield commission, Pennington. You earned it."

"Thank you, sir. But didn't you want _me_ to give you a list of who _I _thought would make a good leader?"

"Yes, I did. That was a test. A test to see how well you knew your troops. Because you will lead them now. I could think of no better a candidate. I personally think it's better to have a prior-E lead them than some fresh LT outta the academy. So wear those gold bars with pride. You join the rare and proud community of battlefield-commissioned lieutenants. Make us proud."

"Aye aye, sir!"

"At ease!" the Captain announced. Applause filled the room and carried on.

"Congratulations, _sir_." Lawrence said, walking up to me.

"You cut it out with that sir crap. We'll always be buds. You too, Holmes."

"At least you're not full of yourself," Holmes said, "yet."

I laughed. "Where's everyone else?"

"—They're getting briefed right now," Captain Lawson said, "by Spartan 066."

Lawrence raised a brow. "A briefing from a Spartan? This should be good."

"Indeed." the Captain said. "Why don't you all take the next slot; looks like 15 minutes from now. Tell no one outside the _Thermisticles _of what you learn. It's game time. It begins now."

"Payback." Holmes declared.


	5. Hail and Farewell

_**Hail and Farewell**_

The corridors of the _Thermisticles _were uncharacteristically active. Quite a few more Marines were aboard since I left for shore leave on Charybdis IX. It was hustle and bustle now, any man or woman with a pair of hands was here, there, everywhere—prepping the ship and themselves for our next mission. I was so thankful to have them with us, Captain Lawson undoubtedly even more so. Augmenting Lima Company with new Marines would definitely make things easier—in a number of ways. We had more collective strength, for one. We also had fresh sets of eyes as well, which always helps widen your perspective of things. Lord knows that Lima would never have gotten to where it is right now if it weren't for the diversity of its Marines, as well as its acceptance of Sierra Company and the many civilians we encountered. And then, there were also new friends to make. I looked forward to meeting each and every one of them—my fellow Marines, _my _Marines. I would have to get used to that now—leading and commanding. It seemed so strange at the moment, to be in that position of power and responsibility.

I had never dreamed of being an officer, which was precisely why I enlisted to begin with. But here I am. It would be both a challenge and a pleasure to lead these new people into battle. It brought back memories of Gunny Smith, his challenges, his persona, his leadership. How he led us to victory each and every time at Zagosa Prime. How brave and compassionate a leader he truly was. I hadn't even pondered all this until now. It just came flooding in, now that we were so far gone from Zagosa, so far away from the Gunny. A deep sense of loss came over me just remembering his face.

Most of my trek towards the briefing room was spent dodging people who had a purpose at the time being. I made it a point to stay out of their way. Surprisingly, it was much less a chore to skirt the action inside the _Thermisticles' _than I thought. I caught a window up ahead. It offered a magnificent view of Charybdis IX. I had a few minutes to kill, so I strode over. The colossal blue sphere was nearly eye level with me, lying at an angle just beneath the ship. I could spend hours here, with just me and space. Then, in my moment of perfect silence and reflection, it hit me…

I double timed it back to the bridge. I ran around tight corners and up service ramps, sure not to lose my balance and cool. I made it to the foot of one final access ladder, shoving two unknowns out of the way. I didn't bother looking back as I climbed up, but still couldn't help but picture what I must've looked like back there—to them. I didn't want those Marines, or _any _Marines thinking I was the snooty lieutenant who prided himself over others. I rounded the corner, and there was my target: Captain Lawson. He was there, center stage, directing various junior officers to their consoles. The bridge was just as hectic, if not more, than the rest of the ship. All activities and reports eventually funneled their way to right here after all. All personnel on the command deck were seated at their consoles, body postures erect and tense with concentration, fingers dancing wildly over command terminals. Captain Lawson had a steady eye on them as well as his own displays. He turned to face me, with deep bags under his eyes and an oily sheen about his face and hair. He needed a break. He was the only one suited for this job, to his great misfortune. Had he even slept since Lima Company's arrival at the Foreclay Outpost? I doubted it. We all had a day of shore leave, but a commander such as Lawson probably didn't regroup in the same way we did. His vacation was probably laden with errands and obligations, meeting with other commanders of this system, probably researching each and every one of CHARCOM's CSV's and recruiting much-needed Marines. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Captain, if you're not too busy, sir—"

"Actually, I am. You should be, too. What are you doing here? You have a lot to do."

"Yes sir, I know. But there's been something on my mind."

"I know what it is that's on your mind."

"You do?"

"Yes, and we'll go over it shortly. Right now, I need you to get your Marines ready for anything. The _Thermisticles _is breaking orbit; we are leaving CHARCOM very soon."

"Where to?"

"To Harmony. Now get going to that briefing. We need you and your Marines to be fully spun up by the time we depart."

"Aye sir!" I snapped to attention, spun on a heel and left the bridge.

Captain Lawson said he knew what was on my mind. Surely, he must have thought the same as I. But I had to hurry to the briefing room.

I made it just in time. The room looked packed. They must have been waiting for some time now, judging by their dispositions. Something caught me by surprise—a voice called, "Room, tech-hut!!!"

I joined the audience in attention and waited for the customary "Carry on", but it never came. I and everyone else remained locked up like statues for the moment. Then, someone close by leaned over and whispered, "That's you, el-tee."

"Right. Carry on," I said as cool as I could manage. Though I played it off well, I detected a lot of smiles and snickering from the periphery. What could I do but smile back?

I took a spot in the back corner of the room. It was packed wall to wall, every seat filled while others were forced to stand. The room was stuffy and warm, so I asked a nearby Marine to turn down the thermostat and kick up the circulators. Within seconds, the room turned pleasant, with much thanks aimed my way. Everyone started to get comfortable and socialize, and soon the air became abuzz with conversation. Flashbacks to the Omega Wing flooded my vision and the drone of the room faded away. It was the hour I could never forget: the moment when Doctor Kleiner announced that a grand fleet of the Covenant was on its way to Zagosa Prime, with intent to glass the planet. "Spartan 066 should be here any minute now." I announced.

The buzz of the room silenced. Like a lake flash-boiled by plasma, the noise evaporated. "A Spartan?!" someone called out.

"Yes," I said, a smile catching on. "We have _two _of them."

The room was abuzz again. I reveled in it. Undoubtedly, a morale booster. I knew for sure that every time I was around Amy I was comforted in some way. Hell, when I found out about my transfer into Lima Company, I was thrilled.

And speak of the devil…

There was Adrian, Spartan 066, about to enter the room.

Spartans were Navy enlisted combatants. I always found it quite odd where their heritage exactly stemmed from. You'd think that an individual, a person in the profession of arms, a _Spartan_ no less, would belong to the combat-rich culture of the Marines. But no.

Instead, whichever UNSC component it was that headed the Spartan-II program, had in fact decided to place them under the Department of the Navy. Spartans were more or less Sailors.

But such little things were neither here nor there; it mattered not. Still, it nagged at me.

Spartans were saviors, walking messiahs. At least in my opinion, they were. The only reason Lima Company still stands is because of Amy's selfless action outside the Foreclay Outpost. Maybe it was her training, their training. Maybe it was Spartan creed. Whatever the case, I thought it the appropriate gesture to call the room to attention, in honor of Adrian, Spartan 066.

"Room, tench-hut!!!"

I could feel the confusion in the air upon shouting the time-honored command, but the inspiration gradually caught on.

Adrian approached the head of the room where a podium sat. Once there, I caught a nod from him in my general direction. "At ease," I said. Those that arrived early sat down, veering on the edge of their seats. All eyes were fixed upon the Spartan warrior. Whatever he had to say, it was sure to be of the most pertinent nature. The supersoldier donned in olive-green armor had complete command of this group before he even uttered a word. "Some of you already know we'll be departing Charybdis IX soon. We are headed to HARMCOM, the planet of Harmony. Lima Company, and those personnel attached to it from the disbanded Sierra Company, are already aware of Operation: Island Hop. Marines from CHARCOM will be brought up to speed during this briefing. Next, we'll go over all our destinations…leading up to our final destination of the planet Reach and our suspected mission once there."

Muted cheers could be heard from throughout the audience. It was common knowledge that Reach was the best place to be at this time of war with the Covenant. It was the mightiest shipyard and military complex in the UNSC's possession, and practically right on Earth's doorstep. Undoubtedly, it was the safest location in the galaxy. And it was the top retreat for R&R. The Covenant wouldn't _dream _of attacking it. Not on their best day.

After the small uproar subsided, Adrian resumed. "To those new to this operation, the UNSC at the planet of Zagosa Prime warred with Covenant forces for nearly two months. Initial response from UNSCDF Zagosa was to pack up and run after the first orbital assault. But not only did the Covenant naval forces _reject_ glassing the planet unlike many other colonies, but their battle group consisted of only two cruisers and one frigate—miniscule in comparison to the kind of invasions we've seen in the past. Instead, they deployed groundside. At times, they engaged UNSC forces in open battle, and other times, they didn't. They were looking for something. What they were looking for, the scientists at the Foreclay Outpost had already found. Let us take a few steps back for a moment. The Foreclay mining facility had been in operation ever since the planet was claimed by the UNSC. Electromagnetic phenomena deep within the mines had always played havoc on telemetry and probing reads and the mine was considered unsafe and off limits for some time. In hopes of utilizing the mine at a later point in time, a civilian team of geologic specialists was deployed to the excavation to solve the ambiguities, the same scientists you see here aboard this ship. Their findings at the outpost turned up increasingly strange. It wasn't until the Covenant went groundside that a full-scale investigation was ordered. The scientists already in place were then situated under military control. And that's when we found an alien device buried deep within…

"It grants the power of teleportation to anyone in possession of it."

The room was immediately abuzz all over again. And the flashbacks came back. Kleiner leading us through the darkness deep below the surface, snaking ever into blackness and dream—a dream where only the Transit could exist. The twists, the turns and the obscurity of the mines, never knowing what to expect. The ghostly-white iridescence cast by manmade light. The mystery and secrecy of the Omega Wing, and what lied beneath. None of it was ever clear until we finally descended. These new Marines were getting the crash course.

They would never truly know what we braved through. They could listen to our stories, hear our tales of horror and victory, but they would never feel it as we did.

Adrian waited for the buzz to settle.

"Lima Company and the Foreclay personnel managed to use the device in their favor, successfully operating it through the aid of their class VII artificial intelligence, Rosetta."

On cue, Rosetta appeared from the top of the podium, where a picoprojector sat. "Greeting, Marines," she said.

"Rosetta will divulge the remainder of the information on Operation: Island Hop to you now. See you in combat, Marines."

Adrian gave a nod and proceeded out the room, all eyes glued to the MJOLNIR as he left. The door closed, and somehow, the room got quieter.

"Marines," Rosetta greeted, "the plan for the operation is quite simple. We are to jump from colony to colony and gather up what strength each system can offer to us as we near Reach. More and more vessels will join, but for now, the _Thermisticles _is the only one to venture on this first leg to Harmony. As you can imagine, there may be resistance along the way. Things can happen in the blink of an eye over light-years just as they do in close quarter combat. Our mission is to see to it that the Covenant are routed away from our colonies once and for all. We will never advance to the next colony until the one we save is free of Covenant."

A giant uproar filled the room. Everyone was lifted at Rosetta's words.

I was amazed. This A.I. had the ability to rally troops. I was glad she was with us. I doubted the Covenant had this kind of support on their side.

She resumed, "Once we finally make it to Reach, our mission changes." She placed her hands on her hips, leaned to one side and took on a casual stance. I feigned interest in her; she was a machine, not a human. But she seemed so genuine. It was impossible not to like her and trust her. I immediately let my guard down as she continued. "I'll be perfectly honest with you all—none of us know what mission they have in store for us, not even Captain Lawson. But I have a pretty good guess. I think…we are headed directly to a Covenant homeworld—one of many. We are taking the fight to them this time!"

Everyone was standing now, cheering and chanting and raving in delight. Comrades hugged one another in celebration. This was the mission any Marine would die for. This was it.

And in our merriment, as the briefing just about came to a close, the deck of the _Thermisticles _shook with life. Inertia pulled at my legs. Engines—they were powered up and propelling us away from Charybdis IX. We were on our way.

"Farewell, Charybdis." I whispered.

**Author's Note: Wham, Bam, here ya go. Just in time for your late Sunday night, you pre-Monday morning commute, or your end to a long day at work/school/whatever. Thanks so very much to readers and reviewers! There are too many to name, but you know who you are. You are most appreciated!**

**Like I said before, I'm hella glad to be working on this again. I've got it all planned out--and there will be another sequel! That's right, folks. Prepare for...**

**The Alone Trilogy!!!**

**I'm excited, yes. And I hope you are too because it's gonna be killer. I'm so excited that I wish I could spill the beans and tell you all what is in store, but I'll simmer down and let you take it chapter by beautiful chapter. Until then, take care and stay tuned.**

**-EmF**


	6. And on Through the Void

_**And on Through the Void**_

The briefing was not only informative, but a real morale booster. Filing out of the briefing room, everyone moved faster and more precise, it seemed. The wily look in all the newcomers' eyes seem to altogether vanish, their faces and their body language as stoic as the visage of a Spartan's faceplate. Jokes flowed freely and various taskings throughout the ship were completed in record time. Marines and scientists were collaborating with one another like the components of a well-oiled firearm. It was no sooner had I taken the time to supervise one team of laborers that I was on to the next, the QA reports flowing smoothly up-channel to the bridge. Even Captain Lawson was intrigued by the current state of affairs. Things were coming together.

I walked down the main personnel artery of the ship—a wide lane with many others stemming from it. Possible destinations were the mess hall, engineering, med bay, and on and on. I was headed to the common area—on the way to my quarters, feeling confident that the show could run without my direction. I wanted to grab a hot shower, chow on some hot food, maybe even get a full eight hours, but too many things occupied my mind. I had questions that needed answering. In particular, something between the Captain and I was unsettled. And it would remain that way until the Captain saw fit to address it with me. Who knew how long he'd be? I would certainly wait as patiently as I could, though. The last thing I wanted was to disturb the busiest and most important figure in the mission. But fortunately for me, the answer to another issue pressing my wits was possibly right in front of me.

It was Doctor Kleiner, at the end of the long corridor. He had a hurried pace about him. I wasn't sure he even knew where he was headed to, his gaze pointed straight down at a datapad in hand as he paced briskly through the corridor—oblivious to his surroundings. Just a quick snapshot was all I got of him as he disappeared from the intersection. I really didn't want to disturb him, either. But he was obviously in between duties. I could catch him if I hurried.

I double timed it down the main passageway. I rounded the corner where I discovered him and received a reward. He was right here, stopped himself shortly after I lost him. I let out a sigh and caught my breath. "Doctor."

He didn't look at me. Only said, "What is it, Pennington?" as he studied his belongings.

He hadn't the time of day for just a lieutenant. He was riled up from what I could gather, probably multitasked to hell, being Doctor Kleiner and all. He was the father of the Transit and the lead scientist. Not only did he have all the power of the universe in his hands, but he also had the responsibility to control it and to make sure it got used wisely and moderately. Plus, he had whatever else Captain Lawson put on his plate.

I asked as gingerly as I could: "Doctor, how did the training go with the new Marines?"

A moment went by in silence, the Doctor in deep contemplation with his head bowed way down, so much so, that his forehead nearly rested on his handheld datapad. "Doctor?"

"Just fine, Pennington."

"Cool. Cool. Uh, what's the current status on the Transit? Do you think it'll be ready for any battles with the Covenant?"

"It is one-hundred percent ready to go. Now, if you please, Private Pennington, take the rest of your concerns up with the Captain. I'm very busy right now."

He about sped off again, but I finally got to the heart of the matter—the question I really came for.

"Doctor. One last question and I won't bother you anymore."

He stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face me, with maybe a scorn in his eyes. The look instantly wilted away and his brow shot up in surprise. "Pennington, you got promoted!"

I offered a quick smile. "Yes, Doctor, I did."

"Congratulations to you, then. You surely earned it. Now what's the question?"

"Question is: why are we in slipspace?"

"W-what do you mean, slipspace?"

"C'mon, Doctor Kleiner. I know when a ship transitions into slipspace."

"Very well. We are in slipspace because the Transit is currently undergoing a battery of tests. I'm afraid it is out of commission for the moment, but not to worry. The tests shouldn't take long and Harmony is not that far away. We are making astounding progress so far—on all fronts."

"Okay, Doc. Sounds good."

He nodded and was about to break for his next task. "Doctor. If we encounter Charlie Victor, you're gonna have to pull that thing from analysis and use it for battle. I'm not trying to harp on you, but I just want to make sure you know what must be done."

"I'm perfectly aware of where our priorities lie, but thank you. Good day."

"Good day, Doctor."

We parted ways.

Now, a little something for me. I ventured back up the main hall and to my quarters. Once there, I undonned my armor, my outer garments, and my combat boots—all my battle rattle—and slipped into clothes a little more comfortable. There was no telling how long Kleiner would have the Transit in non-op mode, and thus, how long we'd be in slipspace.

I locked up the room and proceeded to the mess hall. A hot meal was in order.

Upon entering, I was greeted by a host of Charybdis IX Marines fresh off of shift work.

"Hey, el-tee!" A fresh face said. I turned and greeted the newcomer. "Thought us FNGs could break the ice by running your new nickname by you, sir."

"Oh yeah?" I said, amused. "What's that?"

"Smash'n'Grab. How's that sound?"

"Sounds good, but why this in particular?"

"We heard about your rescue op. Ballsy stuff, sir. Wish I could've been there to see it."

"Who told you?"

"Haze. I hear he's the jokester of Lima Company."

I looked over to Haze who had a sly grin at his mentioning. "You're damn right about that."

I thought all the way back to when I met Haze, a lifetime ago, it seemed. We met just before our HALO drop, before our wild trek through the forest, and our wild insertion into the Foreclay Outpost. He was the one to liven the mood, even if he did piss a few people off here and there. I appreciated his dry and shameless humor. It was a way of keeping the group sane, making us realize we could've always had it worse than the present. It took merely a nanosecond to replay all the memories I had of him. He was sly and clever as the Gunny, and just as cunning as a Spartan, sometimes. One particular memory of Haze I would always treasure and learn from was his display of immense fortitude.

Back on Zagosa Prime. The entire might of a Covenant armada had bared down on the Omega Wing. We had just prepared for a massive influx of people to the outpost—a worldwide exodus. Omega Wing was destined to be the world's savior just as much as it was ours. But it all came crashing down in an instant; hundreds, possibly thousands of innocent civilians vanished from the glassing of the Covenant. And countless others all over the globe. Lima Company and those left in the Omega Wing, were all that was left. We were alone.

It was then that Lima Company went crazy, in total disarray, desolate and faithless from the horror that had transpired outside our fortress. And it too, was then, that Private Haze truly turned wild, almost catatonic. But with the help of a few good men, Haze picked himself up by the bootstraps and carried on. He made it with us to the moon, to the _Thermisticles, _was even instrumental in boarding actions against the _Adamant Faith _and _Resultant Fury. _Haze was okay in my book.

"Haze keeps us on our feet." I finished.

I went to the food conveyor at the far bulkhead and grabbed what was there—a half plate of roast turkey, smothered in gravy and sides of mash potatoes and creamed corn. The delicious, steaming hot scents wafted up off the plate and into my nostrils. My mouth instantly watered. It was going to be the best meal in weeks for me. I grabbed a fruit punch container out of the cooler and grabbed my utensils. I took my seat near my new-found comrades and dove right in to the food.

I ate at a pace just shy of an animal's, though, this was never an odd site amongst Marines. I was quickly more than halfway done with my meal.

"So is Spartan 071 really like what they say? One Marine asked.

I stopped chewing. I held off a frown until I found a napkin and gave it a stroke on my lips. "What did you hear?"

"I heard she's unfriendly. I heard she doesn't say a peep."

"Well, that last part is true; she doesn't talk much. And she doesn't really need to. Any word she says carries a lot of weight."

"Is she PTSD?"

"Hell no." I said. "She's just very reserved. You gotta put yourself in her shoes, her armor, before you go judging. She's been through a lot. Take those rumors with a grain of salt."

"So what's she really like, then? I heard you knew her best."

I thought about that statement. Was I _really _the one who knew her best? I had to be honest with myself at this point: no. It wasn't me; it was Gunny Smith. She saved his life ages ago, before I even entered uniformed service. And now look at what's happened. He's in critical condition, his life hanging by a thread. His family in some alternate dimension carrying on the fight without him? Truly, the galaxy has reversed spin now. Did she even _want _to know me anymore?

"I don't know her that well. But if you want to know what she's really like…just spend a battle or two with her. Do you know of any better way to go through introductions?"

"Guess not, sir."

"Good."

"I mean, Adrian seems pretty cool. Has he not seen that much action, or what?"

"He's a Spartan just like her. I'm sure he's seen plenty of action in his time, believe me."

"She just seems so different."

"Everyone is different. You may very well be different to her."

"Well, majority rules. And the majority says: she's weird."

I washed down my last bite with the fruit punch, then put my fork down on my dish, balancing it perfectly on the edge. "First of all, you need to stop speculating and just introduce yourself to her instead of prejudicing her. Second, what you say is bringing down morale, whether you know it or not. Think about what you say before you say it, Marine."

"Okay," he said diplomatically, "no problem sir. I was just asking."

"What is your name?"

"Private Clausing, sir."

"Private Clausing, I hope for your sake that I don't hear this kind of slander coming from you again. Treat _everyone _on this team as if they were your family. Got that?"

"Sir, yes sir."

"Good. Now enjoy your meal and don't let this run you over." I got up, threw my tray full of soiled dishes and utensils in the wash conveyor, and proceeded out the mess hall. As I neared the threshold, someone asked Clausing, "Hey, are you Haze's long lost brother?"

**Author's Note: First off as always, thanks to my reviewers. You know who you are. I'm inspired by the feedback you leave. Keep it coming!**

**Everyday, I find myself thinking about how cool this story and this trilogy is going to be. Plus, it will tie directly in with canon, so I'm real excited and proud of that. See you in the coming chapters. Stay tuned.**

**-EmF**


	7. Harmony

**_Harmony_**

Never arrive late to a formation.

That was of basic Marine Corps regiment. If you're five minutes early, you're on time. If you're on time, then you're late.

Even though I had plenty of time, I still scuttled towards the next briefing. The most important one yet. I couldn't allow myself to be late. And despite having only one priority at the moment, my mind drifted to the quarrel of words back in the mess hall earlier. I came down hard on Private Clausing. Was my gold bar influencing my decisions? After all, I had no preparation for this whatsoever—becoming an officer. It takes months to get through officer training, and often _years_ to even become a _good_ officer. Did Captain Lawson make the right decision?

I wondered. Not only about this decision, but about Lawson himself. He probably hadn't seen any kind of action. At least, not the kind he should have.

How long was he stuck in that hole in the ground underneath Omega Wing? How long had he and his scientists labored in the deep? How long had he been playing God with the Transit, and how long had he been away from a ship's console—where he belonged?

I wondered.

Was I the right man for this job?

I was spiraling in my mind. A freefall. I couldn't let this happen. Not now.

I took a deep breath, realizing my disciplining of Clausing was justifiable. Ships were no places for rumors. Amy was by any rights the best soldier here. She saved us…_and _the entire outpost from certain death and destruction. Saved the Transit from falling into Covenant hands. She didn't deserve ridicule or prejudice from anyone. Not in the least.

I was right. I shouldn't be dwelling on what I said to him.

I picked my head up and quickened my pace. I made it a mission to arrive at the bridge of the _Thermisticles _15 minutes early. Undoubtedly, I was now held to a higher standard, being a newly commissioned officer. I had to lead by example now. Most everything I ever learned as a troop, all my old habits, had to now be unfrozen in an instant. No more games, no more excuses for anything. I was now accountable for _everything_; I knew that now, like it was just common knowledge, instinct, understood. I was now in charge—to a certain degree.

As I walked the lengths of the corridors, more and more Marines merged in from the many tributaries alongside the main artery, and joined me in my trek. Every single one of them was lively, fresh faces, charged and ready for anything to come. It lifted me up just seeing them. I could feel a new energy in the air. They were the right Marines for the job at hand. Surely, the Covenant had met their one and final match.

I was among the first to the bridge, Captain Lawson nowhere in sight. Rosetta appeared out of a holo-pedestal in front of me, much to the gawking of all the newcomers around. "The Captain will arrive when everyone is present." She said to me, quickly disappearing again, sucked back into the contraption form which she rose. I took my stance at the center of the room and relayed Rosetta's message to the gathering crowd. A steady stream of personnel was influx to the command deck, combatants and noncombatants alike. The bridge was packed and growing stuffy by the minute, a miasma of shifting camouflage and white laboratory coat playing with my senses. Finally, the Captain entered.

"Room, tench-hut!!" I yelled.

The Captain instantly waved it off as he strode to a spot near me. "As you were." I customarily stepped aside and into the masses, giving him the spotlight. "I take it everyone here has attended Adrian's briefing." He said, casting a look over to me. I nodded in accordance. "Good," he resumed, "We'll be transitioning to sub-space momentarily. I ordered this briefing for a number of reasons. Mainly, because I want everyone ready. Anything can happen when we depart slipspace, and we will do what is necessary to protect Harmony or Reach or any of our God-given worlds. We are charged with an immense mission, folks. Whether it's putting warheads on foreheads or sending entire armadas into supernovas, we are now the make-or-break force of this War. Don't forget it.

"We may see action on our way to Reach, or we may not. That's really up to the Covenant to decide that. But make no mistake…if we run into tangos out there, we will clean house and we will keep on going to the next and the next and the next. And don't think for a minute you've got it easy while on shore leave for a day or two just because the uglies haven't shown their leathery hides yet. Anything can happen, so maintain your readiness. You volunteered for this mission because you know you have what it takes to defeat the enemy. Prove yourself right. This means don't get complacent. Study your recall plans over and over until you have them memorized like the mechanics of an M6D. Get with your team leaders and know your roles. Lieutenant Pennington will outline recall procedures for planetside egress. I want you to have fun before our final mission, but you must be ready for anything along the way.

"With that, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Operation: Island Hop. You are the tip of the spear. Go get 'em Marines!"

The bridge was a wave of deafening cheer as the Captain took his chair. Like a rehearsed, ceremonial act, the view port ahead changed from a pure-black void to a swath of inky black laced with a billion stars, the _Thermisticles _flawlessly delivering itself and the most dangerous cargo into sub-space. Directly ahead was Harmony. I took a few steps down the tiered command deck until I was nose up with the view port. I caught the entire reflection of the bridge as it emptied and turned to see the Captain, who, for the first time was smiling. I knew some much-deserved rest was in store for him. He could faithfully let us run the show for a while. What he said took my by surprise.

"Pennington, I'll see you in the officer's mess in five. No one else; just you and me."

"Aye sir."

I stepped out. All the bridge crew carried on in either tasking or celebration.

As I left, the unmistakable sheen of MJOLNIR armor glowing olive-green took up my sights in front. Adrian and Amy, up ahead, in a comrade's embrace. They were truly brother and sister just as any other. How long had it been since they united before the Omega Wing? Did they even know they shared the same planet during the days of the outpost?

It mattered not. This moment was perfect. Perfect for them, perfect for me, perfect for everyone.

Just like the view outside, this truly was Harmony.

**Author's Note: Kind of a short chappy, but I felt it was neccessary. I'm building up something in the coming chapter(s). You'll see. I'm hoping to make it epic, that much is certain.**

**And I want to make this story just like its prequel--I want to remain open to your suggestions about plot or character or anything. I am even taking character submissions again because, obviously, there will be new units joining Lima Company in their epic fight with the Covenant.**

**So read, review, and give me some ideas if you like. I'm always open to input.**

**Stay tuned.**

**-EmF**


	8. Conference Call

_**Conference Call**_

Just as I entered the officer's mess, a ringing caught my ear. A faint echo tugged at my cognizance, emanating from my left pocket. My datapad.

I brought it to bear and studied the screen. An alert was cued for an incoming message—from the Captain. I let it through and immediately opened it. The file was lengthy. I glanced at the subject title: _recall roster and egress action plan. _Undoubtedly, this was the Captain's general strategy for force recall in the event of a Covenant invasion. I skimmed through the text, picking out key words here and there. All in all, it was a solid plan, but certain inefficiencies caught my eye. I'd wait to voice them.

I looked around in the conference room. No one here but me; all I had to do was make sure no one else entered. The Captain had some important news to share with me, there could be no other reason for this meeting. Hopefully, he'd come to put my fears to rest as well—the one fear that could wear down my focus of the mission.

I also couldn't wait to get it all over with. I was dead tired as well, locked in a sleep deficit ever since Lima Company entered the Omega Wing. The warmth of my bunk was only footsteps away, peace and sleep and dream. The Captain entered.

"Sir!"

"At ease, Pennington, and take a seat. I don't want to keep either of us from R and R, so I'll get right to the point." He took a seat on the other side of the long oak table and sunk gingerly into a flanking leather-wrapped chair. He let out a hearty sigh. "I can finally level with you."

"I appreciate it, sir. I really do."

"I give you my word," he said, looking directly into my eyes, "the Gunny will be just fine. They've got the best doctors working on him. Not only that, but he'll be safe if the Covenant attack Charybdis IX. The UNSC _Hopeful _was already en route by the time we left. They'll pick him up and bring him back up to speed."

My heart fluttered with relief. I took in the fullest breath since…

"—Now that we've got that out of the way," he resumed, "we can talk about what's to come." The Captain swiveled slightly in his chair towards a holo-pedestal sitting atop the middle of the conference table. "Rosetta," he summoned lightly.

Rosetta didn't appear as I expected, but the image of a naval admiral sprang forth from the projector instead. "Captain Lawson," the man greeted, "thank you for keeping your word. Welcome to Harmony, it's great to see the _Thermisticles _up there. If you or your team need anything, let me know personally, and I'll see it done."

"Much appreciated, sir." The Captain replied. "This is Lieutenant Blake Pennington, my right hand man in this operation. He'll be handling the recruitment of your augmentees, and to my great admiration, he'll also be leading much of the combat operations as well."

"Sir." I greeted with a nod.

"Thank you for your service, Lieutenant Pennington." The Admiral said. "You are the reason the human race can still hope. Someday, when the War is over and this device of yours is no longer classified, they'll be talking about you for ages."

"Thank you, sir. We'll make sure the Covenant get nothing but hell this time around."

"I know you will, son. So the good Captain has seen fit that you be in charge of troop recall."

"Yes sir."

"Well then, I'll have my staff give you everything you need to get the job done. Forward me your CNI transponder and the info is yours. Oh…one thing: keep my boys in line out there. They tend to get excited about greasing Covvie bastards."

The Captain let out a chuckle. I said, "Will do, sir."

The Admiral leaned in closer, his torso disappearing and his face taking up the whole view. "So…this device of yours really does it? It really teleports?"

"Yes." The Captain answered for me. "But like you said," he continued, "one day it'll be declassified. And you can learn all about it then."

"Eh, figures. Even admirals have to abide by their locus of control. But hey, I had a hand in this op, too. I can live with that. Take care Lawson, and you too, Pennington. Make us proud."

"Aye sir!"

The link severed and the image of the Admiral sunk back into the table.

The Captain glanced at me, then quickly back down into the rich, dark sheen of the table. The glossy depth of its surface was a place for thought. He tapped his knuckles rhythmically, a minor quiver in his lip. It was as if he just took a full gulp of the most bitter ale any colony could produce. "That was the easy part. Now, Pennington…for the hard part."

I sat straighter.

"It seems easy, doesn't it—the road to victory?" He said. I had a pretty good idea what he was getting at, but I couldn't be entirely sure. I needed more conversation.

"Sir, many of us think that with the Transit, victory is damn near guaranteed."

"Everyone knows that. But even though we have this thing, we can't let it conquer _us. _Do you understand?"

"I might understand. Where are you going with this, sir?"

"What I'm trying to say is…that…have you ever heard the phrase '_Absolute power corrupts, absolutely'_?"

"Many times."

"The Transit gives its owner terrible power—which must be used sensibly. Right?"

"I absolutely agree, sir. I'm here for one thing: to complete the mission. To destroy the Covenant. After that…I don't know. Pick up where we all left off. I just want to end this friggin' War."

"I know. I know." Worry crept into the Captain's eyes, furrowing his brow.

"What is it, sir?"

"You'll be spearheading the nuts and bolts of this operation, Blake. Logistics, the disciplining of troops and groundside combat—if it comes to that. But the Transit can complicate everything. You have to understand that you may have enemies on both sides. On the outside _and_ inside."

"Sir, I've had a good look at these new Marines for a while now. I don't think stealing the Transit is in their hearts. And I'll be your eyes and ears from now on. If I suspect any treachery, you'll be the first to know."

"That's all well and good, Pennington. But you can't read minds."

"And I won't have to. You and the Doctor have always had that thing pretty secure. I would have never dreamed in a million years that the Foreclay Outpost had a teleportation device!"

"That's just the point now, Pennington. More and more people will come to know of its existence. More and more people will witness its power. Don't you think that plants a seed?"

"I'm not saying it won't, but I do know that if a group of responsible individuals oversee its usage, we can keep it from getting into the wrong hands. Hell, we made sure the uglies never got their filthy-ass claws on it."

"Right. However, there's just one thing you've overlooked." He said. "It will be your charge to make sure that this doesn't happen."

"Sir?"

"I am so very sorry to be placing this burden on you…" he trailed off.

My voice suddenly took on a new inflection, to my own surprise. "Sir, what burden?"

"You are the one to use it. It can be no one else but you."

"Why me? The Doctor has used it much longer."

"Yes, that is true. But Kleiner is not a Marine. Have you seen how flustered he gets with it?"

"No."

"That's because you haven't known him as long as I have."

"How long have you known him?"

The Captain paused. "…A long time. Eli and I go way back. You see, Doctor Kleiner is a scientist, not a combatant. He's good at what he does, but when the shit hits the fan, there's a chance he can fold under pressure. So I want you to use the Transit. Even he knows you're the one, Pennington. It's why he chose _you_ to get the Gunny back. And it's why I chose _you_ to be commissioned."

"I…don't know what to say."

"Just make sure you check yourself. Know your limits and your potential. And think about the cost of your actions."

"I don't know, sir. I barely got us out of Zagosa. And look at what's become of the Gunny."

"Never mind the Gunny. You did everything in your power, and that's all you _could_ do. You may have barely gotten us out of there, but the simple fact is, you _did _get us out of there; we're still alive…and all of humanity is still alive because of _you. _There's still a good chance he can recover, too.

"So you want me to use the Transit."

"Absolutely. You're the best man for it."

"Okay."

"Just do like I said, Pennington. Use it carefully, use it when necessary. Just like you did when you rescued the Gunny and when you beat that Covenant fleet."

"I will, sir. You have my word."

"Then it's done. You are the one. Therefore, I, the Doctor, the human race puts its trust in you. Can you do it? Can you carry out the mission? Without reservation? Or purpose of evasion?"

"So help me God, I can. And I will. Sir!"

"…Good."

Captain Lawson was still worried. I could feel the tension rising from his skin, wrinkles forming on the sleeves of his service uniform. His eyes—haunted. What was it? I thought we saw eye to eye just then.

"Is there something else, sir?"

"There is."

"I'm listening, sir."

"The very nature of war is fog and chaos. Somewhere in between luck and chance, lies our destiny."

"I feel the same way, sir."

"That is good. Because when you wield such power, you can't assume you're always going to be in control. That's when the wrong things happen, when you get complacent, when you become God. And take it from me—I'm a Captain with 20 years in service, but that doesn't mean I know so much more about battle than you do. I'm the commander of warships; you are a frontline soldier. So I'm going to presume you know about death and destruction."

"I know."

"Then you know that material things—weapons, ammunition, supplies—can be accounted for. But it's the human things, the casualties in war that are the things which never hold any value— because they are priceless. If for any reason the Transit becomes a liability to human life, we have to do what's right, and destroy it. Do you agree?"

"Yes sir. What's the point in winning the War with the Transit if we can't live to see the end?"

"Exactly."

"But sir, how could the Transit become a liability?"

"You've seen what the Covenant will do to acquire it."

Of course I did. The exodus that never happened. The hour that fire rained down upon Zagosa Prime, as it had on so many other worlds. And the tiny Foreclay Outpost, unscathed. A spec in the universe, preserved by our cold, calculative enemy. "Sir."

"The Covenant know we have the Transit now. Their genocide will intensify. They're desperate."

"So we get the operation underway as soon as we can, so we can cut the head off the monster."

"It's not that simple. Take your mind off the strategic picture for a moment and join me in the tactical. You know all about that."

"Yes. It's my home, sir."

"Picture the Covenant showing up here at Harmony. We use the Transit, not just once or twice, but one too many times. They have us pinpointed. Next thing you know, the entire might of the Covenant appears—much more formidable than the last we encountered. And with that amount of numbers…"

"I see your point. But what if the Transit can take them all on?"

"What if it can't?"

"Sir, with it on our side, we can win battles. And wars pass battles at a time. We can take them piece by piece, until our final mission is within reach!"

"There's no telling the outcome of war, Pennington. Remember—war is fog and chaos. Who are you to say what will and will not happen?"

"With the Transit, I _can_ say."

"Ha! You see? Already under the device's spell."

I suddenly realized my own words, as well as the frightening conclusion where my tainted logic just delivered me. I bowed my head in disgrace. "Oh my God, sir, you're right." The Captain rose from his chair and strolled over to the wet bar, pouring himself two fingers of finely-aged pure malt Scotch whiskey into a crystal goblet. He swirled it and sniffed it gingerly, a thoughtful gaze as he peered out a portside window. "Do you still think I'm the one?"

"Heh, don't worry about that little muck-up, Pennington. At least you had the integrity to admit you were wrong. That's why you're the one." He took a gentle sip.

"So what should we do?"

"That is a decision I leave to you, the bearer of the Transit. Your instincts are pure and clear, but they can deceive you. A wise man once said, 'That the triumphant have the foresight to consider the impossible before attempting what they deem possible.' Every move you make, Pennington, from here on out, carries the consequences of galactic proportions. You must weigh them."

A cold lump suddenly formed in my throat. I was weightless where I sat, the Captain's eyes and my own united in understanding as if sharing one mind. Before I could say anything…

"You will lead men and women into battle and some of them may not return from it. You already know this, but don't let your hate for the Covenant cloud your judgment. One false move with the Transit, and together we will face unforeseen consequences."

"I will do my best. That's all I can do."

"—And that's all I'll ever ask of you."

I stood up as Captain Lawson offered me his hand. I took it and we shook. "Thank you for the advice, sir."

The Captain merely smiled, the use for words simply no longer existent. Everything was said. Everything was done.

I snapped a salute, which was proudly returned. About faced, and left the room.

**Author's Note: Well, tell me what you thought. As I mentioned in my last note, I really want to hear your ideas, whether it's about how good it is, how sucky it is, what you liked, what you disliked, as well as any new characters you'd like to add or plot ideas. Even though I have the plot nailed down tight, I could still incorporate your ideas. So review me and stay tuned.**

**-EmF**


	9. Update

**Author's Note: Hello all. I just wanted some important announcements concerning this story.**

1) As of January 6th, 2011, this story is due to receive a reboot. Tweaking is needed here and there. And more plotting needs to take place. I don't know exactly when all this will happen because work life is kinda crazy right now.

2) This story is one of a few of mine that are being combined and subsequently merged with Mr. 125's Where Duty Ends and Superheroes. Many plot lines and characters will come to a grand crossroads and some point, of which we cannot reveal right now. As with my story, The Straight Path, this hybrid mega-story-thingy is on hold for the time being. I'd advise placing whatever stories you wish on your alert list. Other than that, stay tuned into my profile as well as Mr. 125's!

-EmF


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